She remains silent, lowering her eyes to her lap.
Fueling my suspicion.
There’s only one reason I can think of for which a person would be fine with the company of a demon but not that of a necromancer.
“Are you contracted?” I ask, giving her a narrow-eyed stare.
Her dark brown eyes fly to mine. Wide and fearful. “To a demon? No. Never.”
The hasty panic in her voice doesn’t lend itself well to her credibility. But I highly doubt Ryc would make a habit of employing contracted mortals—outside of Eve. More than that, part of mefeels I should be offended by the affront painted upon her face, but it’s good to know she’s not going to be someone easily swayed by Vaelyn. Or any other demon for that matter.
“I’m a Fate reader,” she says, not granting me the time to question further. Words continue to tumble out of her. “That’s how I know what soul crystals are. Not because I’m a necromancer, not because I’m contracted. I’ve no dealings with either ilk—aside from you, Lady Ves.”
Well what in the nine hells do I say to that?
What in the gods’ names is aFate reader?
“I’ve been given the ability to see, read, and interpret the threads—weavings—Nektos has tied to a soul,” she answers my unasked question with far less rush, followed by a heavy, defeated sigh. “I don’t reveal my innate,” she says, folding her hands in her lap. “It tends to be damning when I do.”
I smother the want to laugh.
We all have parts of ourselves we hide. For one reason or another.
“You’re able todiscernFate?” I ask instead.
She nods. “By reading your weaving, I can learn what it is Nektos expects of you and how she plans to get it. It doesn’t matter what you decide, you’ll end up where she wants you one way or another. Your decisions simply extend or shorten the distance between knots.”
“Knots?” I repeat, brows high.
She gives a small, breathy laugh. “They’re like turning points or major crossroads. A person’s weaving is littered with them.”
The reason behind Raevi’s desire tohideher innate becomes painfully clear. Such an innate would be sought by kings, perhaps even the pantheon themselves. They would use her to try and circumvent Nektos, defy what Fate has denoted. And punish her when they could not.
Raevi, she is no warrior.
So shehides.
In plain sight.
Gods does that resonate louder than I’d like.
“Would you like me toread—”
“No,” I interject firmly, shaking my head. “I’ve a loose idea of what Fate wants from me, and knowing that is more than enough.”
“Wise,” Raevi says with an approving nod. “I’ve witnessed many who learn the truth of their Fate grow obsessed with altering it.” She pauses, her eyes darting to the crystal. “Can I ask, do you know why this particular crystal is gold?”
“No,” I say again, albeit softer this time. “I’ve never seen a gold one before. Red, blue, silver, even the rare green. Never gold.”
As someone who’s likely held millions of souls, I’d dare say I have a fair assessment on the matter.
“I’d never seen gold either,” Raevi says, her tone matching mine—soft and questioning. She lifts her gaze from the center of my chest to lock onto mine. “Not until I came to Ollora.”
I don’t know what it is she sees, but it’s clear she seessomething.
“King Alaryc was the first gold weaving I saw,” she says and it becomes a struggle to keep the surprise from my face. “Then you.” She nods toward the crystal. “Now this.”
Ryc and I have gold souls?
